The Little Chapel
by mayprincess
Summary: I was thinking about the perils of marrying young and this thought popped into my head. It’s a bit different, but give it a go. I’d love to hear your reactions. This is a Nathan&Haley story.


**I haven't been reading all that much fanfic lately because my job has been insanely busy, so I hope nothing like this has been written. If it has, I apologize for wasting your time. ****  
****I got this idea in my head, and I needed to put it down on paper. It's a little different, and I haven't really proofed it, but I thought I'd post it anyway just for fun. If you like it, love it, hate it, have suggestions, please feel free to comment. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own imagination…and even that is influenced by the frog.**  
  
**The Little Chapel**  
  
Sometimes she wondered if the gods enjoyed mocking the little people down on earth. If they marveled at the chance to play cruel jokes. Maybe they placed bets to see who could zing the most people. At least that was what she thought on nights like tonight, when the only people who stopped by the Little Chapel were drunk, pregnant, and/or verbally abusive couples. Partners that only tipped the national divorce rate up in a few years. Partners who looked a lot like herself and her ass of an ex-husband just a few years ago.   
  
The gods just had to be up there cashing out at the end of the night, because otherwise it wouldn't make sense. So much was lost in this chapel, in the establishment of marriage – dignity, respect, ideals of love and romance. If someone up there wasn't pocketing the loses, it wouldn't add up. It would be for nothing – void and empty and meaningless, and that thought was almost worst than imagining wicked gods playing craps with our lives.  
  
And the ironic part was that this was the way she was paying her rent after that no-good, piece of crap left her. The only job she could find after a painful divorce, a painful failure really, was a place that joined together these doomed train-wreaks.   
  
Yes, she sighed, the gods must have one sick sense of humor.   
  
The place was a mess right down to the cheesy lace curtains in the chapel to the barely conscious, one-step-away-from-losing-his-license notary public who she swore had a flask surgically attached to his hand. How he officially recognized or stamped or signed anything was beyond her.   
  
The only nice thing about this place was Father Wade. He was rather old, that type of old where age is indiscernible, or perhaps just no longer significant. He was kind and hopeful, optimistic about every person who stepped in the door. His wisdom seemed awe-worthy, but his spirit remained young and innocent. And when he preformed a ceremony, there was always a sparkle in his eye that was genuine and true. There was usually a brief moment where she forgot how hopeless it all was, how fruitless and grief-filled; where she was moved by his faith in love – granted that moment was always ruined once she took a look at the two people supposedly in love, but she enjoyed her quiet moment of gullibility. Her one moment to believe in what she knew was impossible – that happiness and bliss could be found in this hole in the ground. In this tiny, sketchy chapel with a sign outside that flashed, "OPEN TIL 1AM" just like a god-damn drive-thru.   
  
So when couple #23 of the day came in, she wasn't fazed by their youthful enthusiasm. She didn't find it endearing how they grasped onto each other as if out of need. As if they couldn't survive without one another. She had seen it before. It would fade with a flick of a second hand. They would argue. They would break like everyone else desperate enough to come here so late at night. Marriage wasn't supposed to be dark and hidden. It was supposed to be bright and celebrated. Glowing. Ethereal. Everything this place was not.  
  
She also wasn't moved at the way they sat together patiently waiting for the notary public to return with a form. They seemed so content with only each other. Whispering, smiling, creating sparks of magic just by being close. And she wasn't swayed by how intimately they looked at one another, communicating without words or gestures. When Rob, the semi-intoxicated letch of a notary public returned, she wasn't impressed by how hope seemed to envelope them both. She wasn't jealous by how in love they seemed to be. How their love was so clear, so blinding even to her and her charred heart.   
  
She heard them answer the standard questions and pull out the appropriate forms. The tall, dark-haired boy, who even from the back of the chapel she could tell was strikingly handsome, apparently had emancipation papers. She hadn't expected that from his clean-cut, all-American appearance. But then again, she wouldn't have expected the clean-cut, all-American in this chapel in the first place. The girl was young too. But that wasn't so unusual. Maybe she was pregnant. Maybe Mr. All-American had knocked her up.   
  
She didn't want that to be true. Watching these two, she didn't want that to be the answer. Why they were here. What they were doing. A part of her desperately wanted it to be real…just this once.  
  
"So, you knocked up, little girl?" Rob and his crassness spilled. A look of shock spread across the girl's face, followed quickly by a bolt of anger on All-American's face.   
  
"Don't talk to her like that," he warned, the threat in his voice tangible.   
  
She smiled, brightening the world as she tugged on his arm. "Babe, it's ok," she laughed quietly. "I'm sure it was just a joke."  
  
His anger simmered, unable to boil in the presence of her calmness. She turned to Rob, the stupid oaf, and said, "No, I'm not. But here are my papers." She reached in her large red bag and pulled out a few forms. "I downloaded the consent form, and my mom signed it," she said with a hint of shame that Rob would never be able to register with his lack of moral conscious. "And I have a copy of her license so you can match signatures." The girl looked sheepish now, as though a huge crime was being committed. Much bigger than a simple forgery.  
  
But watching the two, the way they interacted so warmly, she wondered if the bigger crime would have been if they hadn't come here tonight to marry. To be together.  
  
"I have a feeling about this one," Father Wade said from behind, watching the couple with the same intent and interest as she begrudgingly gave them. The sparkle in his eye was already in place playing tricks on her again, giving her faith and belief for the young couple. Or at least that's what she told herself. It was Father Wade's influence, not the couple's obvious affection and admiration for each other.  
  
"You're all set," Rob slurred, stamping, signing, and embossing, and then promptly taking a swig from his flask. Real classy, she thought, finally being broken from the spell couple #23 had cast on her.  
  
They walked into the chapel where Father Wade greeted them kindheartedly. Then the young girl with the soulful, expressive eyes scanned her surroundings. The girl looked at Father Wade with a small, kind smile. "Would it be ok if I added a few candles to the chapel," she asked. "I brought them in my purse," she said pointing to her big red bag. And then, with honesty and genuineness and in complete earnest, she proclaimed, "Marriage shouldn't be in the dark. It's a bright occasion."  
  
The ceremony was beautiful. Glowing. Ethereal. Everything this place was not.   
  
When Father Wade stood before the couple to say, "I come here this beautiful night to bring together Nathan Daniel Scott and Haley Elizabeth James," even wretched Rob put away his flask in respect.  
  
They were so serious, so forthright with their love and devotion, that for longer than a moment, she let herself believe. She let herself be gullible to love. Ready and able to fall. Not jaded or singed by the past.   
  
It was just like she should have been. What she wanted desperately to be.  
  
"You have changed my life," Nathan choked, the emotion real and substantial. "Just by being you – beautiful, amazing, so full of life. You've made me want to be a better man, and as long as you'll have me, I know I can be. I love you Haley James." He finished, his eyes so raw and intense with feeling for the petite girl before him. His hand brushed her face gently, wiping away a small tear threatening to fall. "Don't cry," he whispered gently, kissing her forehead lightly "or you going to get me to." His brief smile warming the room as he held onto her hand.   
  
"Nathan," her voice haltered, another tear freely flowing this time. She squeezed the hand they shared, gathering strength from him. "If I had the power not to cry right now, I would, because I would do anything for you. Anything within my power. And you said that I was full of life. That I changed your life. But you've added so much to mine. You've given me excitement and fun. And you've brightened every day," she said, unable to fully get out her last word. "I trust you," she said, now through honest tears. "I respect you. I lov…" the word so deep, so powerful, so real that it overwhelmed her. "I love you." She grinned triumphantly. Gleaming. Radiant with life and love and happiness drawn from the man in front of her. "I would give you my heart, but you already have it." She drew his hand to her lips, placing a chaste kiss to his palm as she looked at him with those soulful, expressive eyes.   
  
And his breath caught in his throat. His eyes glistening from the candlelight and the hint of tears.  
  
"Do you, Nathan Daniel Scott, take Haley Elizabeth James to be your wife, through sickness and health, through the good times and the bad, until death do you part?" Father Wade posed as a formality. To everyone there, these two were already one.  
  
"I do," he said hoarsely, his eyes never leaving Haley's.  
  
"And do you, Haley Eliza--"  
  
"I do," she cut off Father Wade, beaming with joy. Everyone chuckled a moment at her haste.  
  
"Then, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the sparkle in Father Wade' eye only growing stronger with each word. "You may now kiss one another."  
  
And they did. The passion and compassion wrapping around them, binding them forever.  
  
Or at least that what she hoped. Sometimes, when an especially nasty couple came in, and Rob, the stupid bastard, did something obscene, she would think about that one couple who seemed to prove that it was all worth it. She didn't want to know what happened after they left this dingy place. If they were still together. If their families had ripped them apart. Or if they just couldn't last, because when they were here, the chapel was bright. It wasn't dingy. Rob wasn't wretched. And Father Wade's innocence was justified.   
  
All was right in the world because they were right. They were perfect. They were bliss. They were enough to thaw her frozen heart and open her to the possibility.  
  
Yeah, she sighed, smiling to herself, maybe the gods got one right.


End file.
